


The People

by LittleTurtle95



Series: You only live once (but do you?) [3]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Nazi Germany, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe - The Old Guard (Movie 2020) Fusion, Angst, Antisemitism, Crossover, Eddie Kaspbrak is Temporarily Dead, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Espionage, Heart-to-Heart, Hopeful Ending, Immortality, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Period-Typical Homophobia, Stanley Uris Deserves Better, Team Bonding, Whump, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25505725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleTurtle95/pseuds/LittleTurtle95
Summary: Munich, Nazi GermanyWhile Bill and Ben are busy in London giving assistance to victims of the Blitz; Eddie, Richie, Mike and Stan are trying their best to make a difference, making fake IDs and passports to help  the innocents leave the country.Everyone is stressed out, the air is tense and sometimes it feels everything they do is useless, but at least they still have each other.Or, immortal!losers in yet another time in history.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon & Stanley Uris
Series: You only live once (but do you?) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843612
Comments: 13
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of my immortal!losers series. If you're not familiar with The Old Guard (watch it!!!) don't worry, everything is explained in the text. If you haven't read other parts of the series you could not understand maybe a line or two, but you should be fine.
> 
> Read! The! Tags!  
> Be safe!
> 
> You won't see mentions of Beverly in this because in this AU Beverly joins the team in the eighties. 
> 
> I know this specific time and place in history could be still hurtful for someone and I tried not to be shallow or disrespectful. If you find this offensive or problematic please tell me and I’m absolutely open to change it if I can, or even delete it immediately.
> 
> Special thanks to @reddiesupportblog for the prompt, @itsybitsybatsyspider for some headcanons I threw in here and there, and @kajaono for the language assistance! Go check their blogs!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is angsty!! Read at your own risk!
> 
> T.W. anti-semitism / mild self harm (biting lips, punching walls, scratching)

_**People** , /ˈpē-pəl/, noun, plural: _

_ > human beings making up a group or assembly or linked by a common interest; _

_ > a body of persons that are united by a common culture, tradition, or sense of kinship, that typically have common language, institutions, and beliefs. _

* * *

Eddie should have expected it was going to be a really rough day. Every day that started with dreaming about Georgie was a very rough day, and this seemed to only get worse. 

He missed Bill and Ben like hell, they all did. The two were currently in London, offering help and supplies to the Biltz’s survivors, the only ones that could wander in the city giving assistance without fear of being blown up by the bombs – at least permanently. 

While Ben was a refreshing presence for the group, with his kind heart and naive but determined personality, not to mention the only one of them that could cook decent food – thank God for the French – it was Bill’s presence they missed the most, the steady leader that one way or another always managed to keep them in line, to make them focus, to lighten the mood. When Bill was there everything was possible.

But Bill wasn’t there. Bill was in London with Ben helping people in their bunkers and safe houses and Eddie was there in Munich, in the office he dreaded like nothing else before, the other Losers waiting for him at home.

The only thing that was making him keep going was that Richie was in town with him and the others. Sometimes he felt guilty, he knew if it wasn’t for him Richie would have been in _his_ country trying to do his best for _his_ people. But then, Richie always said that Eddie was ‘his people’ now so mostly he was relieved. 

The office’s door opened and his _Untersturmführer_ entered in the room, a ferine smile on his face, and like every time Eddie saw it he felt the overwhelming urge to punch him in the face. 

The young man greeted him with their usual salute. “ _Sieg heil, Obersturmführer_ ”

Eddie breathed deeply. “ _Sieg heil_ ,” he said, feeling the bitter taste of the words in his mouth. 

“We’ve had rumors of another family living in the suburbs, mother, father and five children. We’re leaving in five, I thought you would want to be informed.”

Eddie’s breath hitched. “Mother, father and _five_ children? How is that possible?” He asked, trying not to let his voice betray him.

“I know, sir _._ They keep popping up like rats. Disgusting. They reproduce like rats, too.”

Eddie smiled. “Sure they do. That’s why we’re here for.”

_Five children._

Being a _Obersturmführer_ of the _Sicherheitsdienst_ had its perks, as a spy, he had to admit it. He could put his hands on real marriage licenses and IDs so he could bring them to his friends and let them fake them with new names to give to those who needed them to pass the borders. He could choose the cases to investigate and he could leave some of the people who needed it the most alone. 

But it was an hard job too. Because he had to keep his position if he wanted to keep helping people. And to keep his position he _had_ to take down some of them from time to time. There couldn’t be a _Obersturmführer_ that never arrested anyone. 

He had let down the last three cases preventing his subordinates from going to investigate. A presumed sinti family of four, two women living together the neighbors swore they were lovers and a bunch of suspected enemies of the party. 

If he had known the fourth one was going to be a family with _five_ children he would have let them take the women, with an heavy heart but the intimate knowledge it was for the better. But he hadn’t known at the time, and now he had no choice. He had sworn to himself not to let down more than three cases in a row not to let caught. 

He did this to be able to keep helping people. Another one in his position would have just sent all those people to camps he knew it, but that didn’t make him feel better, it never did. 

“Do I have your permission to intervene?”

Eddie closed his hands in fists. “Affirmative, _Untersturmführer_. You have my permission to intervene.”

 _Five children._ Eddie felt sick.

The young man raised his right arm and looked at him in the eyes with a proud confident smile. “ _Heil Hitler!_ ”

“ _Heil Hitler_ ” Eddie replied, and somehow his calm façade did not falter. It never did.

With that, the man was gone. 

That evening he slipped the keys in the keyhole and bit his lower lip so hard it started to bleed. He didn’t mind, his lips were going to heal anyways, so tomorrow at work no one will know he did it. He felt the blood run down across his chin and sighed. He always was the last to get home, he knew Richie, Mike and Stan were waiting for him, and he didn’t really want to see any of them.

Especially Stanley. He didn’t think he could handle Stanley right now. 

He scratched his left hand with his right until that started to bleed, too. It stung, the pain relieving him even if only for a moment, as he watched the flesh close itself a few seconds after he wounded it, his knuckles now untouched like he had never bruised them. He did it again, letting the weight in his heart fade for a moment, too focused on the sting on his hand. When the scratch disappeared again – Richie didn’t like when he hurt himself like this even if the hurt couldn’t last – he finally opened the door. 

Richie and Stan were sitting at the small kitchen table, reading from the same paper, all the documents Richie was supposed to be working on were piled mindlessly on the side. Mike was cooking at the stove, or trying his very personal version of cooking, that wasn’t the best someone could aspire to. Eddie could not complain, he had always been the worst at that. 

All three looked at him as he entered the room, Richie’s eyes lighting up with relief like every time he came back after work. Richie always found a way to immediately spot him every time he entered a room. It was like they were linked by some sort of magnetism, strings pulling them together like gravity. 

As soon as he saw the blood on his chin and his empty eyes he immediately stood up, coming closer. 

“Eddie what… what happened?” he said, wiping the blood off his chin. “Did someone punch you in the face?”

That was a legit question. If someone had actually punched Eddie in the face that wouldn’t have left any purple bruise or broken nose or teeth, only the spilled blood. 

Eddie looked at Mike, then at Richie’s face, but didn’t even address Stan’s presence. He felt a stab of guilt in his chest, but he couldn’t help it. He really couldn’t bare Stan’s presence at the moment. 

“No. I bit my lip too hard, that’s all.”

“Come sit with us, dinner’s ready,” said Mike carefully, like he was trying to win the trust of a wild wounded animal.

“Not hungry.”

“Bill and Ben sent us a letter. Do you want to read it?” Stan asked, and Eddie didn’t look at him, didn’t answer him, didn’t even acknowledge he just spoke to him.

He took some documents from his leather carrying case and handed them to Richie. “New IDs for the family that asked for it. Do what you must. I’m going to bed,” he said, his voice shaking.

Richie accepted them and opened his mouth to say something but Eddie pushed him on the side and rushed to their bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Stan hid his face in his hands, his elbows on the table, and let out a shaky sigh. Mike left what he was doing at the stove and came closer, stroking his hair gently, without saying a word. 

Richie had fought a war before, but this couldn’t compare to anything he ever lived. He looked at his friends, broken and lost, at the fake and real IDs on the table, at his bedroom door closed shut and his chest ached. They couldn’t die, but this situation was killing them. 

Days like this had started to occur more and more often. Mike and Stan were the ones who derailed the trains on the way to the camps, trying to free the prisoners before it was too late; sometimes they didn’t succeed and it always broke them. Eddie had to send someone there too once in a while, his cover had to be strong and secure, and when he had to chose to sacrifice the innocents for the sake of his fake identity he always came back home like this. Richie sometimes didn’t make the fake IDs in time and the people who had needed them disappeared suddenly, only to be found as files on Eddie’s desk a few days later, and Richie always felt guilt overwhelm him.

Then there were the times when Eddie came back late from work and Richie had to wait at home, terrified, frozen in fear that he got caught stealing documents, that maybe they had tried to execute him for treason therefore finding out about his immortality. He was terrified they could lock him up to study him, to try and see what magic let him heal like that after a bullet in his head, and every time Eddie left Richie knew that could be the last time he saw the man he loved, the ghost of Georgie’s story – locked up alone and being brought away from Bill for hundreds of years – haunted him and made him go insane. 

If someone took Eddie away from him like that he wouldn’t survive, just like Bill hadn’t, his eyes sometimes empty and sorrowful, still grieving after all these years.

“I’ll go for him,” he whispered, and only Mike made a small gesture to let him know he understood. 

Meanwhile, Eddie was in their shared room, he looked at wall with sorrow and punched it with all his strength, feeling the crack of his fingers breaking and the blinding pain that emptied his brain for a few moments. The shattered bones in his hand cracked back to one piece, and he looked down at his fingers going back to normal. He sat on the bed and hid his face in his pillow, trying to swallow back the sob that was threatening to come out of his throat. He only half succeeded, letting out a broken whine strangled by the pillow pressed to his face. He felt tears coming out of his eyes, soaking it wet.

Eddie heard the sound of the door opening gently, and he didn’t need to look up to see who had just got in, and he didn’t want to. He couldn’t bare the thought of Richie seeing him like this, not now.

Eddie felt the bed lowering under someone else’s weight and suddenly warm comforting hands were rubbing his shoulders.

“You punched the wall again,” Richie said, matter of factly. He must’ve seen the bloody stain on the wall, Eddie should have thought of it.

He didn’t sound mad, he only sounded unnerved, resigned. That was even worse than mad, everybody knew it.

He did not answer, because that wasn’t a question.

“You had upset Stan,” Richie said then, and that did it. 

He started ugly sobbing, his face still pressed to his pillow, and for a moment he thought he was going to choke and die like an idiot, just to wake up a few moments later only to feel even more miserable. Richie rubbed his shoulders for several minutes, letting him cry as hard as he wanted for as long as he needed. 

When the sobs stopped he felt warm lips pressed to the back of his neck and let go of the pillow hesitantly, placing him on the bed. It was completely drenched in tears.

“He should hate me,” Eddie whispered, his voice still broken. “I’m a monster.”

Eddie could feel Richie’s eyes on him but he had yet to meet his gaze. Richie’s hand brushed some of his hair off his forehead. “This isn’t true and you know this.”

“It was a family, Rich. A family of seven, _five_ children. _Five_ children. I should have known better. I should have... What would Bill think of me?”

“What everyone of us does, that you’re strong, and brave, and you’re doing your best like any one of us.”

“My best is _not_ enough, Richie. Not even close to be enough. Meyer told me they reproduce like rats and I… I _smiled,_ Rich. You shouldn’t be here with me, just… just go please. I just want to be miserable.”

He finally looked up and they locked eyes. 

He didn’t know what he was expecting to see in Richie’s face when he looked at him. The same sadness and resignation he heard in voice, probably; annoyance and hurt maybe; worry and care most definitely. There wasn’t any of those things in his eyes. The only emotion that flashed in Richie’s eyes, clear as day, loud like thunder was love. Nothing less, nothing more.

“Eddie,” his voice both light as a feather and sharp like a sword. “This is killing you. You can’t do this anymore.”

“No, I can’t stop. _We_ can’t stop. This is helping people, real people. We can’t stop now, you know this.”

“I can’t see you like this. You’re breaking.”

Eddie stood up and took to distance himself and took a deep breath. “Then leave. Go to London, help your own people, be with Bill and Ben where you belong. Just go, then.”

He started to pace in the room until he felt a firm grip on his arm, stopping him. 

_Now, this is something I was expecting._

Richie was mad, _really_ mad now. He was looking at him with fire in his eyes. 

“ _Stop,”_ he hissed. “Stop. Trying. To. Make. Me. Go. Away.”

“Richie,” he tried to say, but he didn’t let him.

“No, shut up now! This is no different from you throwing fists at the wall, or biting your lips until they bleed out, or bruising your hands with your nails because don’t think I hadn’t noticed that. You are hurting yourself for no reason and it would be useless anyway because I’m not going everywhere. We started this together and we’ll have this together. I had you from the very first day this shitty not-life happened. I’ve had you ever since and it’s been the only thing that I will never ever regret, no matter what happens. I won’t let you take it away from me because you don’t allow yourself to be happy. Do you understand?”

He looked so furious Eddie’s breath hitched, he stood still, looking at him with lips slightly parted, unable to give his answer.

“Do you understand, Eddie?”

“Yes,” he whispered, looking away at last. “I’m sorry. I should… I should go apologize to Stan.”

“You should,” Richie said. “And you will. But not now, now we’re going to have some rest. You’re not lucid enough to apologize right now.”

Eddie didn’t want to rest, but he didn’t want to fight either. He slipped out of his SD uniform, looking at it in disgust. The red band with the swastika mocked him from the floor, just like the buck belt with the German Eagle so similar to the one he had given Richie almost thirty years before. 

Richie was having none of that, so he grabbed his shoulders again and pushed him on the bed, tilting his chin with his hands making him look in his eyes.

He didn’t have his glasses on, he never wore them in bed, but he was close enough to see him.

“Enough with being miserable,” he said, ruffling his hair gently. “Everything is going to be okay.”

“Sorry, Rich. I know. It’s just a bad day, that’s all. Sometimes it’s just more difficult than usual.”

“I get it, Eds, really. Tomorrow you’ll feel better.”

Eddie rolled his eyes at the pet name but didn’t argue this time. After everything that happened taking time to fight over a pet name seemed shallow. 

“I’ve already fought for my country before, you know this,” he said instead, his voice low. “I didn’t believe in their bullshit then, but it was still _different._ That was a proper war, we were fighting for some stupid land, okay? I nearly killed you, you nearly killed me, we were just kids, it was inhuman but it was something I can… I can get away with that. It was about blind patriotism and greed, I can understand greed. This shit is… this shit is so much worse and _my people_ are doing that. Sometimes I’m just so ashamed… this is _my_ country. I fought for this country, I got killed for this country, and what did they do with that? Genocide? That’s what my people did with my life and the lives of my comrades? Really? That’s what we died for thirty years ago?”

“All of them are _your people_ , Eddie. All of them.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying, Rich. I just told you that.”

“No, you don’t… you don’t understand. _All_ of them are your people. The brainwashed sadistic assholes you work with are your people, the innocent lives we’re all trying to save are your people, the ones who help us save them are your people. This is still your country and every one of them is still part of your people. It’s okay to feel ashamed but do not make the same mistake as them. _They_ are the ones who believe your people is only them, that the others do not belong here, but that’s not true, you hear me? That’s not true. They’re all your people, Eddie,” he pressed his lips to his forehead, just as he knew Eddie liked. “Besides, we are your people too. Me, Stan, Mike, Ben, Bill. All of us.”

Eddie smiled for the first time since he left home that morning. “You used to be the dumb one, what happened with all this wisdom?”

“I am a middle aged man now, I have at least to pretend to be a serious human being once in a while,” he said with a smirk.

“Who would have thought I would have ended up with a fourty seven years old Brit in the end? Ma would be so disappointed in me.”

“We all know your mom loves me, she doesn’t mind at all.”

“You never even met her, you dumbass.”

“I met her once upon a dream, darling. You underestimate our love.”

“You are an utter fool, you know that?”

Richie grinned. “I don’t know. You’re smiling, that seems more like I achieved exactly what I wanted. That’s the opposite of being a fool.”

“Fuck, I love you,” Eddie said, then he leaned in and kissed him. 

It started with a soft press of lips, then it became slow and deep, numbing all his senses and engulfing him like a blanket. It was incredible how after so many years their kisses still always managed to make his heart explode in his chest.

“This,” Richie whispered when they parted, their lips still brushing, only a breath away. “This is what we died for back then. And I’d do that all over again, a thousand times, if it meant I could spend eternity like this.”

“You big sap,” Eddie said, but he was smiling.

Mike handed Stan a bowl of chicken soup. “Eat,” he said, and it was clear he wouldn’t have accepted _no_ as an answer.

Stanley finally lowered his hands and looked at him. He accepted the food silently, no words needed.

Mike sat at the table next to him, and stared to make sure he was really going to eat all of it.

“We love you,” Mike said then, voice steady, without an inch of doubt in it. 

“I know.”

“You have every right to be mad.”

“I know.”

“But he loves you too, that’s why he feels this guilty. That’s why he doesn’t want to look at you.”

“I know,” Stan said for the third time, then sighed. “You’re all so young. Sometimes I forget and then one of you does something so fucking stupid that reminds me of that and every time I’m surprised like an idiot.”

It was true, they all looked in their twenties – not Bill, Bill looked like a teenager despite being the oldest of them – but they all came from different times in history. Stan was more used to be with Bill, and Bill was more than one thousand years old, so he sometimes expect the others to act like him too, always measured, always in control. 

Stanley was almost six hundred years old now, being the oldest after Bill, and he had to deal with what were just kids to him. He was born in a Jewish community in the Ottoman Empire, and had lived ever since. Ben was one hundred and fifty now; Mike was eighty; Richie and Eddie were the youngest, not even fifty yet, and sometimes it became painfully clear. 

“I wish Bill were here,” Mike whispered, so low Stanley almost didn’t hear him.

“Me too,” Stan said, sipping calmly from his spoonful of soup.

Silence fell in the room for a few minutes, then Stanley filled it again.

“You know,” he said, “this is not something new for my people, we’ve always been haunted down in history. I shouldn’t be surprised. You can’t imagine how many times I’ve seen this happening.”

“Stan-”

“Then why does it still hurt so much? My heart… my heart is bleeding, Mike. My heart is bleeding and for the first time in hundreds of years I don’t see a way out.”

“This happened to my people too, you know, it still happens today. I already fought a war like this one, I died for it, the ways were different but the hatred was the same. It seemed impossible too back then but we won we… we did it.”

Mike had died the first time fighting with the Union Army in 1863, and had already seen so much wrong in his life to speak with a weight most people couldn’t master.

Stanley scoffed. “Yeah, I remember that. It didn’t change much for your lot, did it?”

“Oh no, it changed a lot,” Mike said. “But it didn’t change enough, no. That doesn’t mean we should stop fighting.”

“I’m sick, Mike. I’m sick of fighting. I’ve been doing that for too long.”

“Maybe you are. Hell, I think I am too and I’m not even half old as you are, but you won’t stop trying. You love too much to. Sometimes you love so much it hurts. I know because it happens to me too.”

”What did the letter say? How are Ben and Bill doing?” Eddie was laying in bed looking at the ceiling, already feeling better. That was the Tozier effect.

Richie shrugged, looking for something in his pockets absentmindedly as he spoke. “Nothing much. A bomb fell on their heads when they were out after the curfew to help some civilians get out of town and they’ve been dismembered. Took three days to grow back an actual body from what was left.”

“Oh my God! Really? What the fuck!?” he cursed, then when he saw what his boyfriend was doing he frowned. “Richie _,_ was ist das?” _what is this?_

He smirked, playing with the cigarette on his lips. “Take a wild guess, Eds.”

“Wirf deine Zigarette raus,” _drop the cigarette,_ he groaned, rolling on his side of the bed. “You know I hate it when you smoke at night.”

“Nuh huh!” he tooted, his smile growing wider. “You lost your right to complain when you pulled that stunt on the fucking wall mate.”

Eddie looked at the red stain on the white wall, the one he made when he punched it breaking his bones, and sighed. “Fair. I’m gonna go apologize to Stan.”

“Well done, darling,” Richie said, relaxing on the bed. “And do not shut the door, we don’t want to sleep tonight with smoke in the room now, do we?”

Eddie didn’t answer, he stood up and walked towards the door. Just before he had walked out, he turned and looked at the man – the boy? What was him? What were them? – laying on the bed, all limbs relaxed, his lips swollen for the earlier kisses and a white line of smoke coming out of his mouth. He looked like a painting.

“Richie?”

“Yeah Eds?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“No. It’s… thank you. Thank you for not going away even if it looks like I want you to.”

Richie looked back a thin and smiled. “If it looked like you want to I would go, but it never does. That’s why I don’t. But you’re welcome anyway.”

He let his eyes linger on him just for a few moments more and then he finally walked to the kitchen. Mike and Stan were sitting down, empty bowls of soup in front of them, chatting peacefully.

Eddie cleared his throat and they noticed him, Mike immediately standing up and rambling excuses nobody needed, disappearing in his room.

Stan stood up too, but made no move to go away. They stayed silent for a few moments, Stanley waiting for Eddie to say something, Eddie trying to choose carefully the words.

When enough time had passed and none of them had moved or said something, Eddie hadn’t really decided what to say yet, so he did the only thing it came to mind. He stepped forward and hugged his friend as tight as he could.

Stan tensed for a moment, startled by the sudden gesture, then he hugged him back, squeezing him. Eddie hid his face in the curve of his shoulder and whispered “I’m sorry.”

Stan took in a sharp breath, but kept holding him tight. “Okay.”

“I couldn’t bring myself to look at you but you didn’t deserve it. You’re already going through so much and I-”

“Why were you so upset?”

“What?”

“Why were you so upset, Eddie?”

Eddie held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t make me say that. Don’t make me say that, please.”

“Tell me. I want to know.”

Eddie knew he owed him that. So even if it was the last thing he wanted to say right now, and Stan was the last person he wanted to tell, he did. “I authorized a raid, a family of seven. All guilty, of course they are. Five children, the eldest is eleven years old.”

Stanley tensed but his voice didn’t falter. “Do you remember their names?”

“Their names?”

“Yes. Their names. Do you remember them?”

“Yes, I… I signed the papers this morning.”

“Tell me, then. I want to hear them.”

“Why?”

Stanley let go of him, and even if he looked like a nineteen years old the weight he had in his eyes betrayed how ancient he was. He had never looked so old. “Because if they took the whole family maybe nobody is going to remember them. Now we will. We will remember their names, they won’t be forgotten.”

So Eddie did. He told him every name, every date of birth, he even described them from the pictures he had in his office. He did it in great detail, telling his friend everything he remembered from the files.

Once it was finished, Stanley took a deep breath. “Swear. Swear you’re not going to forget any of them, no matter how many centuries you’re going to live.”

“I swear. I swear I’m going to remember them, no matter how many centuries I’m going to live.”

Stan stroked his cheek with his thumb, a sad smile on his lips. “I forgive you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me if this upset you! I did my best and had it beta’d but I am open to all suggestions!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is less angst and more action, hope you'll like it!

The day after seemed like it was going to be better than the last. Eddie woke up in Richie’s arms, his back pressed to Richie’s chest, his gun under his pillow just in case, like every morning before and after that.

When he went to have breakfast, Mike and Stan were making bombs with some gunpowder on the corner in their small kitchen that served as a living room. They were leaving for the day directed to the nearest railroad, they had to derail a train going to Dachau and they seemed particularly confident with this one.

Richie was scribbling some fake IDs over the official ones Eddie had brought home the day before, they looked perfect, they always did. 

When he got to work the first problem presented immediately. On his desk Mike’s and Stan’s faces were looking at him from the files he had to examine in the morning.

_Enemies of the state._

_Accusations: treason, espionage._

“Fuck,” he hissed, rushing to lock the door twice. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He threw the files in the empty fireplace – it was spring, Eddie hadn’t used it in months – and lit them up with a match he had in one of the drawers, watching them burn until they were completely gone, unlocking the door when only ashes were left.

It was time for them to move somewhere else, to wipe off all their traces and start again. They knew the time was coming, Eddie should have been twenty seven now, the youngest _Obersturmführer_ in town, but his body had stopped aging at eighteen and he could easily pass as a seventeen years old. It was starting to become ridiculous.

Now that he had evidences that Stanley and Mike weren’t under the radar anymore he knew they had to leave as soon as possible. 

He could use his morning in the office to get all things ready, make their new documents himself and plan their movements. The most sensible choice seemed to be Dresden. 

He was half way into filling their passports, making them two years younger than the last time just to be extra safe, when the door opened and he had to hide them in a rush, ready to start his day of work. 

The new case of the day was a family Eddie knew well, the one Richie was making new IDs for at the moment. He authorized the missions for three days later, when he knew they should have already left the country. That made him feel a bit better with himself.

The day at work was long, slow and particularly busy, so when the evening arrived the documents were still unfinished. He sighed. He wanted to have them ready for them to use even the day after if necessary, but it looked like they had to wait one day more. 

Everybody started to leave, him waiting as always for the office to be empty. He had to give the impression of the perfect soldier, the perfect man, the perfect gear for the perfect machine of the Reich. 

He took his carrying case and was just about to leave when his office’s door opened once again. 

_Oh no,_ Eddie thought. In front of him there was Weber, one of his _Hauptscharführer,_ the guy was one of the most sadistic and brain washed people Eddie knew in the office, not to mention he hated Eddie with fervour, because he was much older than him and yet had still one of the lowest ranks. He really didn’t want to deal with him at the moment. 

“ _Sieg Heil Obersturmführer,_ ” he said politely as he always did, but his voice was unusually cold. 

“ _Sieg Heil,_ ” Eddie greeted back. “What do I owe the pleasure, Weber? Do you want to sit down?”

The man smiled and instead of answering the question raised his right arm revealing his weapon, holding him at gunpoint. “Put your hands on the desk. Both of them.”

Eddie froze. The situation was surreal. He did what Weber asked, but tried not to panic. He was going to make it, he always did.

_Please, don’t look in the drawers. Don’t look in the drawers. Please do what you want but don’t look in the drawers._

He couldn’t risk to blow up not only his but everyone elses’ cover. He thought about Richie’s face in one of the pictures in there and swallowed. He wasn’t going to let them take him or anyone of the others. 

_Whatever it takes._

“What is this? Do you know this could get you killed? I am in charge here. I could have you executed for treason.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Weber said, coming closer and sitting on the chair at the other side of his desk. “Now I’ll tell you something, and you will tell me if that rings a bell to you. If you don’t, I’ll put a bullet in your brain. Are we clear?”

Eddie nodded briefly.

“Since the first time you moved here and you got promoted so fast I knew there had to be something wrong with you. I wondered, and wondered, and wondered what could be of you that unsettled me so much, but I couldn’t find the answer, and everybody else seems to love you. So, do you know what I did?”

“I don’t know, did you attack a superior in a very self destructive stunt?”

Weber smirked. “Very funny. No, I followed you instead. I followed you all the way to your house when you came back from work yesterday.”

_Fuck. Fuck. I need to get to the others. I need to tell them. I have to-_

“Imagine my surprise when I found that you are not living with your parents as you claim to be, but you share the house with three men. I couldn’t help but notice you are _very_ affectionate with one of them.”

“So what?” Eddie asked, trying to keep his voice steady. “Don’t you hug your friends?”

“Don’t act like you’re stupid, it doesn’t suit you. I want you out of my way one way or another, so I’ll tell you what is going to happen. You’re going to write a signed confession of your sins and you’re giving it to me. First thing in the morning I’m bringing it to the _Reichsführer_ Himmler and getting you a one way ticket to Buchenwald. If you don’t, I’m killing you now. No in between.”

Eddie closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. “You’re making a huge mistake and you’re _really_ going to regret this.”

“Tell me, _Obersturmführer,_ train or bullet?”

Eddie glared. “I have nothing to confess for I do not live in sin.”

“Bullet, then. Smart choice. I wonder if your beloved friend will mourn you. I don’t think people like you have enough heart to love and grieve. I should go visit him, just to be sure he has something to cry for.”

“You have no evidence against him or any of my friends. You’ll kill me now and you’ll get what you want. There’s no need to go further.”

“Sign the confession. Sign the confession and if you report them maybe they’ll forgive you. You have some chances to be absolved.”

“What was that, _Hauptscharführer_? Are you afraid to take a life?”

Weber scoffed. “As if I haven’t already taken many from people of your kind.”

“Do it then, coward. Do it! Shoot another unarmed man to prove how great you are! Tell to yourself you’re less of a failure if it’s the only way for you to keep going! Do-”

Eddie was used to this. The sound of a shot, the blinding pain on his chest, the numbness in his mind as the bleeding worsened, energy slowly leaving his body.

“Du hast mich getötet, Arschloch!” _You just killed me, asshole!_ Eddie hissed, and if looks could kill the man would already be obliterated by now.

Weber stood up and looked at him in disgust. Eddie would have loved to insult him again, but he had already lost the strength he would have needed for that.

“ _Heil Hitler,_ ” the man said, waiting for life to leave Eddie’s eyes. Once he was satisfied he turned on his heels and left.

When Eddie woke up a few minutes later, short breath and distant pain in his chest, the sickening feeling of his flesh that reassembled itself, he was alone. He immediately went to look at the drawers to see if the fake IDs were still there. With a relieved sigh he saw them, and he made his decision.

He wasn’t going to come home tonight. It would have been too risky. They had to move to Dresden in less than a day, Munich had become too dangerous for them now. He had to finish the fake documents and he had to do it at work, he couldn’t go out and risk to get caught with them in his carrying case, he could be stopped by any officer and they could inspect him. It was rare that they stopped him, he was an officer too after all, but it happened from time to time and he wanted to be extra safe. That was their last chance and Richie, Mike and Stan were safe and sound at home, Weber really had no evidences against them and he was going to let them be, at least for now. Besides, he had to be at work tomorrow and he didn’t want to be out three times, one from the office to their safehouse, then back to work and finally back home, it would have been pushing too far with his luck. 

He had to finish the fake IDs in the night, then he was going to have Weber moved to Poland for insubordination tomorrow morning, he’d resign claiming an ill parent and only with these three things settled he was going to go back home, and tell them they were leaving immediately to Dresden. 

_Fuck, Richie is going to be worried sick_ he thought, even if he knew it was for the best for everyone. He hoped his boyfriend wasn’t going to do something stupid, he had to trust Mike and Stanley with that. 

He sighed and started writing fast and firm, filling their documents and summing up what he needed to apply to Dresden’s _Sicherheitsdienst_ as well, starting back as a twenty years old from the lowest rank with a new name. This was going to be a long night.

Richie was pacing restlessly in the kitchen, smoking his fourth cigarette in a row. “It’s late. It’s too late, he’s never been this late.”

Mike and Stan were sitting down at the table, both worried as well. They were waiting for him to start celebrating, because the derail had been a great success, the track had blown up rather spectacularly and most of the prisoners had run away in the woods. 

That had been two hours ago, when Eddie was supposed to be already on his way. There had been no sign of him since. 

“Maybe I should go there. Maybe he’s in trouble, maybe-”

“That’s a terrible idea, Richie,” Stan said, fidgeting with his fingers on the table. “If he’s talking his way out of whatever it is you could make things worse.”

“He’s been talking his way out for almost _three hours_?”

“Maybe they had an emergency at work just before the end of his shift. Maybe they’re on a last minute mission or something and they’re just late,” Mike suggested.

“He doesn’t go on missions anymore, he got promoted. He only does office work now,” Richie muttered anxiously, crossing the room again and again and again.

“They can’t hurt him, okay? Calm down. He’s going to come back, he always does,” Stan said, even if worry was evident in his face, too. 

“Yeah, great advice. _Calm down._ Why didn’t I think of it sooner?”

“Richie-”

“You know what Stan? I bet that’s what Bill said about Georgie when they threw him in the fucking Atlantic Ocean! I bet he thought _he’s going to come back he always does_ and you know what? Four fucking hundred years later and he’s still at the bottom of the Ocean!”

“You’re talking nonsense, now,” Stan said sharply. Bill had always loved Georgie more than anyone else, but Stan had cared about him too, the three of them had spent more time together than Richie, Eddie, Ben and Mike combined. He didn’t like when someone mentioned him. “This has nothing to do with Georgie.”

“This has _everything_ to do with Georgie!” Richie had started to raise his voice. “They can’t harm him, you say? They could _lock him up._ They could bring him anywhere. Once they find out what he is they’re going to test on him, they’re going to torture him! They can’t kill him but that doesn’t mean he cannot be harmed. Georgie couldn’t be killed too, and see what happened!”

“Sit down, Richie,” Mike’s voice, low and cold interrupted the argument. “The only thing we can do now is wait. Don’t you trust him?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“Answer me. Don’t you trust him?” 

“Of course I do! We’ve been together for forty years, of course I trust him!”

“Then _sit down_. He’d want you to behave and wait for him to come home.”

Richie fell on one of the chairs with much force that he basically collapsed on it. “If he doesn't-” his voice started to break. “If he doesn’t come back I won’t ever forgive you. Never.”

Stan and Mike exchanged a thousand words in one look, then Mike stood up. “I’m going to make some tea.”

When the morning finally came, Eddie had to wear his coat not to let his colleagues see the pool of blood on his chest and the bullet hole in his uniform. He hadn’t slept at all, too busy filling papers for Weber’s exile, their move to Dresden, his new job, and their new IDs. 

When his colleagues started to come, nobody questioned why he was already there. Just as he always was the last to go he always was the first to come, too. Someone asked him why he was wearing his coat inside, and he answered every time that he had just caught a bad cold. No one seemed to think it was bullshit, even if it was April. 

Eddie watched from his office’s door Weber approaching the station, his eyes weary, looking for any sign of the crime he committed. He probably was expecting KriPo agents everywhere, an _Obersturmführer_ found dead in his office with a bullet hole in his heart was a big deal, after all.

Too bad there wasn’t a an _Obersturmführer_ dead in his office, with a bullet hole in his heart. There was only an _Obersturmführer_ very much alive, with his chest perfectly healed, his uniform covered in now dry blood and fucking pissed off.

“ _Sieg Heil_ comrade!” Eddie greeted him as the man crossed the door, with a smile that went from ear to ear. “Did you sleep well?”

Weber was staring at him petrified, their colleagues now looking at them in curiosity.

He didn’t answer, he didn’t move, he just stood frozen in shock, all the colour gone from his face, pale as snow. 

“I said _Sieg Heil_ , Weber. And I also asked you a question.”

Their colleagues snickered. 

“ _Sieg Heil Obersturmführer_ ,” he whispered, looking at him like he had just seen a ghost. In some ways he did.

Eddie smirked. “You didn’t answer my question, but it’s a start. I want you in my office. _Now_ , if you please. And if you don’t, come anyway.”

“Yes _Obersturmführer_ ,” he whispered, looking down at his feet and following him.

“Good luck Weber!” one of the other men said mockingly.

“Do you think I should clear his desk already?” said another.

Eddie’s smile grew wider. He had never been more grateful for the inherent cruel nature of his colleagues. Weber’s day was going to be so much worse than he expected.

“Sit down, will you? I’d like to have a word or two.”

The man obliged and Eddie locked the door. Weber squirmed in fear on his chair. 

Eddie sat at his place and put his gun on the desk between them. Weber flinched.

“Now now, one thinks a _Sicherheitsdienst_ agent would know how to kill a man, don’t you think?”

“I did! I killed you! I waited to see the life leave your eyes!”

“Do I look dead to you?”

“This is… this is witchcraft. I’ll tell everyone.”

“What are you going to tell everyone, exactly? That I came back from the dead? You know what we do with the mentally ill. You arrested many of them yourself.”

The man didn’t answer, and Eddie adjusted in his chair to get more comfortable.

“Now, I asked you how you slept because I didn’t sleep well. See, there was this pain in my chest disturbing my sleep, not to mention some empty threats some fool told me yesterday that were a faint echo in my mind,” he started, and the man’s breath hitched. “Now I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. I’m going to send you to work in Treblinka. I hope you speak polish, by the way. If you won’t you’ll learn. I can see you are a fast learner. Are you a fast learner, Weber?”

The man nodded fervently. “Yes, sir.”

“Great, so, I’m going to demote you for insubordination and you’re going to be transferred to Treblinka, with immediate effect. If I come to know that you told someone, _anyone_ , about who I do or do not live with or anything we said during this conversation I’m going to report your attempted murder. And if I’m ever going to report that you tried to kill me you know what is going to happen. You’re going to stop working in Treblinka and you’ll start being their _guest_ for treason. Are we clear?”

Weber hesitated for a moment. “Crystal clear.”

“Great. These are your relocation papers. I hope I won’t ever have to see you again. But if I do, you’ll definitely be the most worried out of the two of us. _Adieu._ ”

Weber took the papers in his hands and stood up, looking at him with a mask of horror and disgust. He glanced a side look to the gun, but he made no move to take it. He had probably understood that would have been a massive mistake from his part.

“ _Heil Hitler_ ” he said, raising his right arm.

Eddie looked up at him, still sitting on his chair. “Hitler can choke for all I care.”

The man flinched but did not comment. He really was a fast learner after all. He unlocked the door and was about to go away when Eddie added “remember, one word about what happened or what you think you know about my living habits and you might as well start undressing now, because your next shower is going to be your last.”

“Yes, sir,” he said dryly, then he opened the door and disappeared.

Richie was a mess. He was sitting on the kitchen floor, his back on the wall, looking up at the ceiling with empty eyes. Everything he saw was Bill, still heartbroken after four hundred years without his brother. Bill clenching his fist every time one of them had a nightmare about the iron coffin. Bill feeling sick to his stomach every time they had to see the Ocean. Bill still with the sketch of his brother in his back pocket.

He couldn’t let them have Eddie. He knew he wasn’t ever going to recover from that, living knowing that Eddie was God knew where, with God knew who doing got knew what to him for eternity. The thought was enough to make his breath stop and his heart clench painfully in his chest.

Stan and Mike had just woken up after falling asleep with their heads on the kitchen table. Richie hadn’t closed his eyes the whole night, all his body itching for the need to go and look for him. 

“If they really took him…” Stan started, as soon as he was awake enough to think. “If they really took him we have to leave now. They know where he lives, they could come after us at any moment.”

Richie changed position for the first time in hours, looking at Stan like he just slapped him in the face. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious. The situation is serious. Go pack your bags, we have to be ready to go.”

Richie scoffed. “If you think I’m leaving him here you really don’t know anything about me.”

“We can’t be here, you have to know this. They’ll take us.”

“I don’t know where this misunderstanding started Stan, but just so you know… if they took him I want to be taken to. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Mike sighed. “Richie, I understand what you’re feeling but-”

“Do you? Do you really?”

“We’ll come back for him. I swear. We’ll do anything to have him back, you know we will. We just can’t be found here first. We won’t be able to help him if we get caught. We won’t be able to help anyone else.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You do what you want.”

“Yes, you are,” Stanley said, starting to get pissed off. “You have responsibilities. There are people who are counting on you for their passports. There are people who are counting on you for their _lives_.”

“You all like to talk a lot about people. Eddie is the only ‘people’ I need and I’m not leaving him behind. I won’t lose him. If we-” his voice faltered. “If we go away I won’t find him again. I can’t let it happen. I don’t care about the cost. I just can’t.”

“We are _not_ leaving him behind. We are helping ourselves to help him later.”

“If you want to make me leave you’ll have to kill me and drag my dead body out of here.”

“Maybe I will.”

“ _Guys,_ ” Mike said, raising his voice. “This is not the right time. We have to leave. _Now_.”

Richie was about to tell him to fuck off when the door opened in a rush.

Eddie was coming in, his hair a mess, and his coat looked like he had slept in it. He was gesturing widely as he usually did saying “Everyone pack your bags. We’re leaving. Like, now. Immediately. I’ll explain later.”

He got rid of his coat cursing loud, a dark bloody stain on his uniform, there where his heart was supposed to be. He dropped the coat on the floor like he despised it.

“ _Eddie,_ ” the sound that came out of Richie’s throat was almost inhuman. 

He jolted up to his feet and clang to him like his life depended on it.

Eddie let himself indulge in the hug for a moment, Richie shaking in his embrace as he held him tight.

“I’m sorry. I know you were probably worried tonight, it’s just-”

“ _Worried_?” Mike asked. “Eddie, we were terrified. What happened?”

“As you probably have already guessed, one of my colleagues killed me. He shot me in my office, and I bled out. He saw me and Richie together, he wanted me to report him and sign a confession, so I let him kill me because we couldn’t have that. Now he knows I came back to life, so our cover is ruined, and I already dealt with him but we can’t risk it, we have to leave. They know about you and Stan too, I had to burn your files yesterday morning. We’re heading to Dresden. As soon as possible, preferably before lunch.”

Eddie kept stroking Richie’s back as he talked, him melting in his arms, chanting _oh thank God,_ _thank God,_ without letting go.

“I already have our documents and my job application. We’ll be six years younger, two less than last time, we should all be twenty one. The IDs and passports are in my carrying case, take yours and study everything. Name, date of birth, age, place of birth, every single thing. I won’t be an officer anymore and Mike draws attention, they’re going to stop us at least a few times while we’re on the road, they could ask questions.”

“See you here in five,” Stan said after a brief nod, disappearing in his room. Mike followed soon after.

“Rich, I get it, really, but we have to go now. Please Rich, we have to go.”

“Don’t do this to me ever again. Don’t,” he said, holding him tighter. “Don’t do this to me _ever_ again.”

“You know I can’t promise that. It’s part of our job.”

“I felt like I was going to die. Really die, irreversibly die. I-”

“I’m sorry. I know, I’m sorry,” he said, and when they parted he stayed closed to him, his hands still on Richie’s hips, touching Richie’s forehead with his.

Richie looked down at the blood stained on his uniform and squeezed his eyes. He couldn’t even bare the sight.

“Richie, _we have to go now_. We’ll talk later, okay? I swear we will. We can’t-”

But Richie was kissing him, and when Richie kissed him Eddie couldn’t help but surrender. When Richie was involved everything went off balance, it had always been like that, since the very first time he saw him, in a trench at the other side of the battlefield, when he asked him to stop smoking because it could get him killed, even if killing him was exactly what he was supposed to do. When Richie was involved Eddie’s rationality, his willpower, his good intentions melted away replaced by the mere need to please him, to make him happy and safe and right next to him. Nothing else mattered.

He stood still where he was, his back to the front door, and let Richie’s lips kill him and bring him back anew, his hands shaping him back to life once more. He tasted him with his tongue, he felt him with his fingertips, he smelled his scent and heard his desperate groans. 

It could have passed one minute as well as Bill’s lifetime when they parted, and he adjusted Richie’s crooked glasses on his nose. They always slipped a bit when they kissed, Eddie wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

“If you’re done now, we have a train to take,” Stan deadpanned. 

They both looked at him apologetically, then Mike offered Richie an olive branch. “We packed your bags, too, since you were… _busy_. We can go now.”

Richie accepted it and gave him a small smile, at least having the decency to look embarrassed.

“I still have to change. I can’t go to Dresden as a twenty one year old with a uniform like his, not to mention the fact that it’s soaked in blood.”

Richie’s hand found his like it was its first nature, its instinct like the salmon swims upstream. “Let’s get changed,” he said, because wasn’t letting him go out of his sight any time soon.

They rushed to their – now former – bedroom with their bags in hand, Richie helping him undress to make it quicker. It wasn’t the first time Richie had undressed him, far from it, but usually the mood was way lighter when he did.

He didn’t know what Dresden had in store for them. It was probably going to be difficult just as Berlin and Munich had been, if not more. There were going to be bad days, and arguments as a result. There was going to be death, that since the very first time in 1914 seemed to like their company maybe too much.

There was going to be his family, Mike and Stan at least. There was going to be Richie. That was enough.

He knew they were going to make it, they always did. They were the Losers Club, and they were going to kick this ugly war in the ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think and don't be shy if something unsettles you! This is a really difficult subject and I'm always open to constructive criticism!
> 
> This is a work of fiction that does not claim to be historical truth. This is not based on real personal events.


End file.
